Blacklist 1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own and profit from NOTHING. This little fic is largely inspired by and borrowed from the Boston Legal episode titled "Ass Fat Jungle". If you've seen it, you'll appreciate all the little scattered references. Red takes on a notable degree of Alan Shore's characteristics. If you haven't seen it, fear not. It won't ruin this story for you, and it also won't spoil anything about the show, should you intend to watch it one day.

Chapter One

"Most of all I want to sleep. I want to sleep like I slept when I was a boy. Give me that. Just one time."

Red woke up on the carpet of his 14th floor hotel room, feeling completely disoriented in the pitch-black darkness. His whole body ached, but nowhere so much as his head. Blindly, he groped the space around him, still on the floor for the moment, taking a mental inventory of his injuries. No bullet wounds, lacerations, burns, or broken bones. Once he determined that the aches were probably just contusions, he slowly rose up to his feet, groaning from the sudden rush of blood through the dilated vessels of his neck and head. He gripped the nearest bedpost for support as he swayed.

What the hell happened? Red couldn't recall, and so he added 'possible concussion' to the list. He felt his way up the bed until he reached the nightstand and the lamp that sat upon it. His hands fumbled and slid up the base, beneath the lampshade, until he finally found the switch and flicked it on. He winced at the sudden brightness and turned his head away too quickly, his breath catching from the fresh jolt of pain that exploded across his forehead.

Then he noticed the bedsheet crumpled up on the floor, right next to the sliding glass door, and he knew that it was happening again.

Night terrors.

They first started as a boy, when his mother decorated his bedroom with clowns. In the middle of the night, he would run out of the house, across the street, and into the woods. Upon awakening, he stumbled home with bloody cuts on his feet, scared out of his mind. He was only a child.

He called it "sleep running," and his mom didn't even care about what it did to him. Eventually, little Raymond took matters into his own hands by setting fire to the room. It worked, and no one ever suspected a thing, but it wouldn't be his last act of arson.

Years later, the terrors started up again when he found the surviving porcelain clown that his mother had stored in the attic. Yet again, she couldn't be bothered to take on the motherly duty of protecting him from himself, so she let him get a dog. Mr. Meagles slept with him nightly, and whenever Ray lept from his bed screaming in the middle of the night, Meagles always went after him, barking and nipping until he woke up, always just in the nick of time. Mr. Meagles even consoled him by curling up beside him in bed, resting his head on Raymond's chest. He could only wonder how many times that dog saved his life. He'd had a number of close calls, but the worst thing he'd ever done was flash a few unsuspecting, early morning joggers.

After that, he had to endure the discomfort of wearing pajamas, at least until the terrors stopped. Bedtime is supposed to be naked time! There's nothing he'd rather do in a bed fully clothed than naked. Nothing.

The last time the night terrors flared up, they rapidly escalated and became much worse than ever before.

Her screams.

Her stuffed rabbit.

The smell of his own flesh boiling under the flames.

The next morning, those three things were all he could ever recall about the night terrors.

Even after the terrors finally stopped again, the nightmares never did.

It wasn't as if walking into his family's bloodied, empty home on Christmas Eve wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to him. It was. Those memories either kept him awake at night, or gave him nightmares, whenever he was unfortunate enough to actually fall asleep. Unlike the night terrors, he could vividly recall every agonizing detail of the nightmares.

And instead of details, the terrors left him with little more than paralyzing fear, tachycardia, and sweat-soaked bed linens.

So, here he was again, and the trigger was obvious.

It was right after he opened up to her. "None of it is worse than losing you." He said it out loud, and felt his heart begin to soar when her expression changed. She finally believed him, if only for that moment, and he could have sworn that a piece of her heart had leaked through her tearful eyes. She was already missing that piece, fueled by regret and the thought of him being jailed for life and completely lost to her.

When he dropped to his knees at her feet, the opening morphed into an offering, and the trigger of his night terrors came soon after.

It was from seeing Tom's warm gun pressed against Lizzie's temple, and the fear in her eyes that his own surely mimicked. It was the thought of her collapsing at his feet with a bullet in her head, lost to him forever.

Torturously soon after, the very same fear manifested itself again in a different form, while watching her walk away for good, tightly stiffening and seizing his heart. A silent conversation passed between them while Red choked back a sob and blindly painted the very picture of anguish upon his own face.

Once, there was a time that Lizzie would have derived pleasure from hurting him. She would have gleefully jumped at the opportunity. She actually had done it more than once before.

Not anymore. And knowing that she shared his pain only made it worse for him.

...-...-...-...

The next day, Red was an insufferable ass at the post office. Lizzie was quick to point it out, and her curiosity was piqued when he brushed her off with a non-committal response. Something was off. He was clearly keeping something from her (something new, that is).

The following night, another night terror invaded his bedroom. This time, Red sucked up his pride and told Dembe about it. He responded by inflating an air mattress at the foot of Red's bed, insisting that he sleep there in order to keep him safe. At first, Red was annoyed by the offer, but soon after, something dawned on him. He finally had someone in his life who actually gave a damn. He was touched.

The following week, Dembe's sister was diagnosed with non-hodgkins lymphoma, and Red was yet to go a single night without incident. That didn't stop him from insisting that Dembe go to her. He asked Red to come along so he could continue guarding him at night. Red refused. He had a backup safety plan that he was actually quite eager to implement.

...-...-...-...-...-

While several thousand feet in the air, in Red's jet, he made the first step in his plan. There was nowhere Lizzie could run. He didn't care that it was an underhanded way to ask for help. If it works, it's worth it. Red tilted his head and walked directly into Lizzie's personal space, seating himself beside her, their legs touching. He jumped into the situation without preamble.

"I have a condition. It's called 'Night Terrors'. During the deepest levels of non-REM sleep, I hear voices, terrifying screams. Sometimes I even run. Since I'm sound asleep when I'm running, this puts me in significant physical danger."

"Uh huh? I'm already familiar with the parasomnia." she huffed.

"Well," he went on, "I need somebody to guard me at night."

Lizzie pursed her lips, impatient. "When you say guard?"

"Ah, well, it's quite simple, really. I need you to lie in the bed with me. If I get up to run outside, you just stop me."

He only waited seconds for her response. "How STUPID do you think I am?! Is there anything you won't do to try to sleep with me?"

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gazing at her with eager eyes. "So you'll think about it?"

She glared at him.

He reacted as if she had agreed to do it, smiling. "Excellent." Then he returned to his seat in order to let her stew without aggravating her further.

...-...-...-...-...-...-...

Alright, how's it going so far? Love it or leave it? Let me know. Thanks for reading. This isn't a one-shot, although that was my original plan. =P There's gonna be more, but I have no Idea how much yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own neither The Blacklist nor the episode of Boston Legal from which this story was largely inspired. It's called Ass Fat Jungle, and it's pretty stellar.

Author's note: I'd like to thank everyone for reading, and double thanks for the sweet reviews! Nothing is more effective at encouraging speedy updates.

Chapter 2

Shameless! If Elizabeth Keen could choose only one word to describe Raymond Reddington, it would be that. Ever since she had the gall to ask him if he was her father, he's made it his life mission to get her into bed with him. As if!

Well...

Truthfully, she'd given it some thought. SOME! It's not like she thought about it all the time or anything, like he obviously did.

But that's the other thing. Liz couldn't be sure if his propositions were even genuine. He could be harassing her for the sheer pleasure of watching her squirm with discomfort. Much to her chagrin, Red was starting to wear her down. She was hating his come-ons less and less, and she suspected that he noticed. If he wasn't serious, and she finally gave in, it would be beyond mortifying. She could claim to be calling his bluf, but he wouldn't believe her. Hell, moving to Antarctica would sound like a viable option.

It was Tom's fault. All of it. He's gone, and she's glad, but well... it's been awhile! Between her career and her crippling inability to trust, the dry spell had no end in sight, and he knew it too. He always knew too much. Red swaggers around in those goddamn three-piece suits, forcing himself into her personal space to make sure she can smell his custom-blended aftershave. His eyes are demanding of hers; always reaching out to capture her unblinking gaze until she can't take it anymore and looks away, earning a self-satisfied smirk. He intentionally lowers his voice whenever he's saying something that she needs to hear, forcing her to lean in closer, focusing entirely on him. She could go on and on about these obnoxiously sensual things that he does. That shameless ass!

Do NOT get her started on his ass though. That thing? No. Just don't.

After Red returned to his seat on the jet, she dug into her briefcase and pulled out The Blacksmith's dossier in a probably-transparent attempt to look busy while she fumed over Red's latest stunt. After her anger subsided, in spite of herself, she began to consider the possibility that he actually needed her. Since the death of Luli, Dembe was the only person that accompanied him everywhere. With Dembe gone, for an indeterminate amount of time, Red would be alone. If he truly was having night terrors, then he really would be in danger.

"Everything about me is a lie." From Red's lips to her ears. Perhaps he was referring to his FBI dossier, but that wasn't how she heard it. On day one, he planted the seed for her mistrust in him, so he could hardly blame her for letting it take root. That was his fault. Liz's profiling skills would have come in handy here, if the issue concerned anyone else but him. He's an enigma. Nearly every day, Red somehow finds a way to disprove at least one item on his profile.

Liz recalled the DSM criteria for night terrors, but it wasn't particularly helpful. Red could easily memorize and parrot those back to her. She'd have to see the symptoms herself in order to confirm them. That would mean agreeing to his request.

Yeah.

No.

Instead, she'd have to go by the list of possible susceptabilities, determining which ones applied to Red. It wasn't a quantifiable method, so she couldn't render an actual diagnosis, but it would be enough for her to seriously entertain the possibility that Red really needed her.

\- Family members who suffer from night terrors. (?)

\- Fever (not presently)

\- Asthma (nope)

\- Narcolepsy (definitely not)

\- Being a male (check)

\- Malnutrition (oh no)

\- Sleep apnea (?)

\- Enduring stressful events (a limitless amount)

\- Hypoglycemia (negative)

\- Having a co-morbid psychological disorder, especially an anxiety disorder (probably)

\- Migraines (yep)

\- Head injuries (most likely)

The list wasn't as helpful as she'd hoped. It was frustrating too, knowing so little about him. Finally, as the plane touched down, Liz thought of a solution that should have been obvious.

Call Dembe.

-...-...-...-...-

Liz only briefly considered the possibility that Dembe would lie to her about this. She decided that he wouldn't.

When they returned to the post office, Liz beckoned Red to follow her into her office and close the door behind them. Red hummed with pleasure. "I like the direction this is going. Lizzie, what took you so long?"

"Please shut up," she huffed.

"I prefer to be loud, but we can try it your way first."

Liz decided to ignore that comment. She sat at her desk and put her elbows on the table, resting her head on her palms. "I spoke to Dembe. He confirmed what you told me about the night terrors. We can't catch blacklisters if you're climbing the walls and trying to crash through glass doors and high-dive from rooftops."

"I knew you'd say yes," he practically purred.

"I can start tonight, but first I-"

Red interupted her with a singsong voice. "You care about me."

She ignored him again. "First, I'm drawing up a standard service agreement, and you WILL sign it. The language of what I will and will not do will be very spec-"

He cut her off again, whining, "Great... I'm being cared for by the fun police."

Liz huffed. "There won't be any Clintonian mishaps, if that's what you mean by 'fun'."

"Come on, Lizzie, you don't need to worry about that."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because you'll like it."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I'll be there at nine, with both the contract and a pen. If you don't sign it, the pen's going back into your carotid."

Red grinned. Feisty Lizzie was his favorite.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer- I own neither the blacklist nor boston legal's episode titled Ass Fat Jungle.

Note: I'd like to thank you all for the amazing reviews. They mean the world to me.

chapter three

Hempstead's house was always Grey's favorite, and being there without him felt like a betrayal to the close friend that Red had murdered. Now, when he stares out the window, where the moonlight breaks through the trees, Red can't see beyond his own reflection. It's blurry enough to obscure his features, making him look like a man with a plastic bag over his head. Red doesn't believe in spiritual ghosts, but he's acutely aware of how it feels to be haunted. Fortunately, Grey only haunts him in Hempstead's former living room, but that's only because he spends nearly every waking and sleeping moment being haunted by more imposing ghosts.

He found a mason jar of the nameless white spirits, and hit the lights, hoping to see the outside world more clearly, but it wasn't clear enough. Defeated, Red sat in the dark and brooded, sipping from the jar and waiting for Lizzie to arrive.

This was probably a mistake. For the hundreds of times he'd imagined what he would do to Lizzie if she climbed into bed with him, none of those fantasies accounted for a situation like this. They never included night terrors, nightmares, or fire. Most of all, they didn't account for the unescapable reality that forced him to keep her in the dark. She didn't know the truth, but what she didn't know didn't make Red want her any less. Every day, he rationed off another small piece of himself for her, and it wouldn't be long before he simply crumbled at her side. What she doesn't know isn't hurting her yet, but it will.

If she wraps her arms around him, he won't have the strength to stop her, but the dark won't be enough to shield her from him. She'll demand answers. He can't lie to her.

He can't tell her the truth, either.

Red had half a mind to just call and cancel. Within moments, the thought escalated from the abstract and into a plan of action. "Sleep running" to his death would be better than subjecting himself to that line of questions. He reached into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. After taking a fortifying breath, he selected his number one on speed dial and pressed "send".

Lizzie answered on the second ring.

"What the hell, Red? Chill out! I'm only five minutes late, and I'm pulling into the driveway now."

Red didn't even need to see her eyes to know that they were rolling. He intentionally sighed, feigning exasperation to buy a moment while he tried to think of an apt reply.

"So, you're not in the mood for takeout?"

"I beg your pardon?" Apparently her exasperation was genuine.

"I was just thinking about our woeful food selection. The kitchen is bare. I had a huge meal a few hours ago, so I wasn't even thinking about food until now. I'm good for the night, but I'd be remiss to bring you into an empty house on an empty stomach."

Her tone softened, "Oh, sorry. I'm good..." After an awkward pause, she added, "Should I ring the doorbell or let myself in?"

Red responded by hanging up and opening the door, smiling.

Liz shoved the contract and pen into his hands, pushing her way past him. Silently, he tried to reassure himself that he had nothing to worry about. He repulsed her. She was disgusted by his constant sexual harassment. Lizzie couldn't have been more clear. She even drew up a contract.

All those times he caught her staring at him, it was just his own wishful thinking. She was actually lost in thought. All those times she unceremoniously showed up on his doorstep, it was just like she said- She had nowhere else to go.

He really was her gumball machine, and that was all. No worries! He wouldn't have to remove his shirt because she wouldn't want him to.

"Here, let me help you with your coat," he offered. Despite the blatantly-antiquated sexism, Liz had long since tired of resisting Red's compulsive chivalry.

"Sure."

Before he could squash it, the briefest swell of pleasure overcame him. She didn't fuss about him helping with her coat, and it was his favorite. She hasn't worn the red wool peacoat in ages. It was a good sign.

Oh, wait. No, it wasn't.

They sat on opposite sides of the couch, and Red leaned over the coffee table to scrawl his name on the contract. As soon as his pen hit the paper, Liz launched herself forward, grabbing his hand before he could finish the letter "R". His eyes widened in surprise, then flitted out of focus before he could consciously school his expression.

She noticed and hastily pulled her hand away, trying to ignore the shock of electricity coursing its way through her veins.

"You have to read it first."

"Let's not and say I did. My eyes are too tired to read."

Liz glared at him. "Not my problem. You'll have to know exactly what you're signing in order to know the rules you'll be following. There's no room for pulling the 'oops I didn't know' card."

"Ah, yes. Those Clintonian mishaps you're so worried about. I didn't invite you over for sex, Lizzie. This contract is insulting. We both know that my harassment is limited to the verbal and verbose."

"I don't need to sign this because you don't need to be protected from me. I'm perfectly willing to sign to put your mind at ease, but I won't be bothered to read the stupid thing."

"You really want to put my mind as ease? Read it! Not reading it will make me uneasy."

"I should have seen that one coming.."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Inspired and heavily influenced by Boston Legal's Ass Fat Jungle. I own and profit from nothing.

Author's note: Out of gratitude for all the sweet reviews, and at your collective urging, I jumped on a speedy update for chapter 4. And since several people asked, the contract is included too. I hope you guys like it. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! We're still nowhere near the end of this story, so stay tuned for chapter 5.

**Chapter Four**

Liz stood up and stalked around toward the back of the couch. Once she was standing behind him, she leaped forward, leaning over his shoulder, to grab the pen out of his hand. Red's breath hitched, but he was too surprised to think of anything clever to say. She put one hand over his jugular, her fingers splayed, tipping his head back, forcing him to look at her from the compromising position she'd placed him in. When Red swallowed, she placed her other hand on his forehead to keep him from moving.

She slowly lowered her head until it was only inches from his face, and suddenly her senses were bombarded by the scent of his aftershave. She closed her eyes and paused, hoping her expression hadn't given her away. After concluding that holding his eyes with hers might not be such a great idea, she slowly inched her face to the side, until her lips were practically touching his ear.

Red shut his eyes and sighed at sensation of her both her hand and her hot breath holding dominion over his throat.

Liz released the hand on his forehead because it also held the pen, and she noticed that he didn't even try to move away. That pissed her off. Was he not afraid? Does he think she wouldn't have the balls to do it again? She wouldn't give voice to that thought. Instead, she slowly brought the pen to his neck and began to write on him.

"Lizzie... What are you doing?"

Instead of answering, she tightened her grip on his throat and continued writing.

Ah, well, fuck it, he thought. He'd find out soon enough. Liz tightened her grip once more, letting her nails dig into his skin, and Red completely lost the ability to think at all. Still holding both the pen and his throat, she pressed her forehead against his, in a bid for intimidation, and gritted her teeth to speak. "I just drew a bull's eye. You wouldn't want me to miss, would you?" Red didn't respond. "Good boy."

She released his throat, stood up straight, and sashayed back to her seat on the couch. "Now, READ IT."

Only then did Red lift his head from the headrest. "No," he said.

"GODDAMNIT RED. I've done it before and I WILL do it again."

"Will you please read it to me?" He implored.

She huffed and her shoulders slumped. "Fine." Red wasted no time handing the papers to her.

"For the sake of clarity and brevity, the contract is basically a list." She paused to glance up at him, "Are you listening?"

He nodded. "For the sake of being a no-fun, ice queen, you made a list. Got it."

She rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored his antagonism, "Okay, do NOT interrupt me." She waited for him to nod and began to read aloud.

"No sex. No cuddling. No hugging. No kissing. No groping. No talking. No holding hands. If you can't fall asleep, you may read a book on your tablet. No lights. You must remain fully-clothed. Do not so much as take your socks off. No playing footsie. No spooning. We'll stay on opposite sides of the bed, each under our own, separate blankets. No firearms. No contrived excuses for needing to disrobe. It isn't too hot. Do not touch the thermostat. When my alarm goes off, don't hit snooze or turn it off for me. For your own safety, you must go to bed at the same time I do, and also wake up when I do. I reserve the right to stop you or say say no to anything I find objectionable that hasn't been covered in the contract. Should you fail to adhere to my terms, I'll leave and won't be held liable for whatever happens to you."

She looked up to see his lips twisted into a smirk. Clearly, he had a lot to say and was restraining himself. She took that as a step in the right direction. "Alright, Red. I can see that you have questions. Go ahead and ask them before you sign."

"No firearms? You understand that I'm not the only criminal with a shitlist, right? I constantly relocate and keep a live-in bodyguard for a reason. Dembe's not here. I need at least one gun."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm your bodyguard now. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"You're here to guard me from myself, not from the dredges of the criminal underworld. I need my gun."

"YOU have me. You can't have a gun at night because contrary to what you said earlier, your night terrors make you a danger to me, and I do need to be protected from you. I won't save your life only to be perceived as a threat and thanked with a bullet in my head. I'm not telling you where it is, but I do have a gun, and I'm more than capable of using it. Hell, I shot and killed my own husband- the man I loved and pledged to spend my life with. I won't hesitate to shoot an intruder. You'll be fine."

"Okay, and if I need to use the bathroom?"

"I'll go with you."

He chuckled first, but stopped abruptly. "No."

Her jaw tensed. "It's for your own good. We're doing this right, or we're not doing it at all."

"Huh. Will you be helping me with my zipper too, Herr Keen?"

She stood up. "Are you calling me an SS officer now? Really?"

Red shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. The Schutzstaffel were disbanded and dissolved in 1945."

"SHUT UP," she shouted.

Red looked away and clasped his hands on his lap, taking a deep breath to refocus. "Lizzie, I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help. Please sit down."

She walked over to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass, the steam from her breath lightly fogging it up. Liz didn't need this. Why'd she even bother? What was the point?

Red leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, with his head dropped low enough to run his fingers across the back of his head. Long seconds later, he lifted his eyes to find her staring at him, and her chest tightened at the regret painted across his face. "Please, Lizzie. Come here. I need you." When she didn't move, he dropped his head again and clasped his hands over the back of his neck.

Silently, she glided over and stood behind him, waging a brief war against herself and the urge to console him. Red flinched, startled, when she placed her hand over his and gently squeezed. He froze, too afraid to speak or even look up.

"Okay, I'll stay," she whispered, and returned to her end of the couch. When Red finally looked up again, she canted her head and softly asked, "Are you ready for bed?"

He wasn't tired. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he nodded. "How firm are you on the 'no talking' rule?"

She sighed, trying to decide how to admit that the rule was excessive without compromising her control of the situation. "It's..." She sighed again. "It's okay, as long as you shut up when I ask."

The corners of his lips lifted slightly and he signed the contract.

"Well then," Liz stood up again, "Go ahead and get ready for bed. I have to get my things from my car."

As she turned toward the door, Red bit back the urge to offer to collect her bag for her.

Ten minutes later, Liz let herself into his bedroom and softly shut the door behind her.

"When you came in empty-handed, I hoped you'd ask to borrow my clothes to sleep in."

Liz shot him a warning glare that he probably couldn't see in the dark room. "Well, I guess that's better than hoping I'd sleep naked."

Red only hummed, not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn't make her turn around again. Liz padded over to the empty side of the bed, lifted the blanket, and crawled beneath it.

What the hell is she wearing? Red wondered, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and focus. When it dawned on him, he bit his lip and tried not to laugh, succeeding in staying inaudible, but still the bed shook, belying his amused reaction.

"What?" Liz snapped.

Red shook his head, still biting his lip, hoping she wouldn't press him.

No such luck, "You think the ski jacket is excessive? Well, I don't. Better safe than sorry. The last thing I want is to tempt you."

Oh, fuck it. He couldn't resist. "I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you about my Stay Puft marshmallow fetish."

Liz groaned and abruptly sat up to unzip the jacket and throw it across the room. After laying down again, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and sighed. Red turned to his side to look at her and whispered, "Thank you again, Lizzie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied.

Red had no hope of actually falling asleep next to her, and didn't even bother trying. In case he managed to piss her off too much to return the next night, he wanted to savor the experience of having her there. She fell asleep quickly, and Red contented himself with watching her chest rise and fall until her alarm went off.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: All previous disclaimers apply to this chapter as well. To be honest, this chapter is really "meh" to me. It doesn't quite flow right. Just the same, I thank you for reading, and will gladly accept reviews.

**Chapter Five**

"There will be nightmares, and every day, when you wake up, it will be the first thing you'll think about... until one day, it will be the second thing."

The following morning, Liz was abruptly awakened by her alarm's persistent blaring. With her eyes still closed, she reflexively rolled over to swat at it, but her palm only made contact with the corner of the nightstand. Startled, her eyes popped open and widened in confusion.

Ugh! Liz groaned, recalling where she was and why she was there. She rolled the other way to wake Red, but was met only with empty space and cool sheets. That bastard! He couldn't even stick to the rules for one night? Without so much as bothering to look for him first, Liz shuffled over to the bathroom to shower. After double-checking the lock on the door, and in spite of her frustration, she couldn't help doing something she had secretly wanted to try for ages. She opened the bathroom cabinet and peered inside, in search of either Red's cologne or aftershave. She was lucky enough to find both. They were in tiny, unlabeled glass bottles, as expected, and both had a small, unfamiliar symbol etched into the bottom. She had always assumed that Red would have custom blends, but a miniscule part of her hoped that he wouldn't, so she could buy some for herself.

Oh well, Liz thought. Might as well give 'em a quick spray while she had the opportunity, right? Each imparted a fragrance that was intoxicating enough to fully wake her up. Combined, they morphed into something nameless and powerful enough to make her close her eyes again and tremble weakly. These should be illegal!

On second thought, knowing Red, they probably were.

After her shower, Liz blowdried her hair and donned undergarments, a pair of black skinny jeans, a white blouse, and a black blazer. She skipped applying makeup, but hastily brushed her teeth and finally trudged downstairs in search of Red. Briefly pausing on the landing, she took a deep breath and steeled herself to give him hell.

She found him in the kitchen, fully-dressed and standing over the stove. "Red, what th-"

He cut her off and narrowed his eyes. "Lizzie, you aren't very good at this."

Liz put both hands on her hips and replied, "You couldn't go a single night without breaking the contract. Why am I surprised?"

"Oh." He nodded. "So, I got out of bed without waking you, and now you're angry?"

She stepped closer and pointed her finger at him. "YOU agreed not to get up without me."

"Yes, and you were supposed to guard me in case I ran off in my sleep, but you didn't even stir when I got up. I'd hate to think of what could have happened if I actually had a night terror." Red smirked and turned his attention back to the contents of the frying pan.

Liz crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

After ignoring the loathful daggers from her eyes for a minute, he briefly looked up and asked, "So, 9 o'clock again?"

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "I'll have to think about it," and turned on her heel to leave.

"Lizzie, I made you an omelet!" He cheerfully called out to her back. "Come on, this could be the only time I get to make you breakfast."

Holding the front door open, she glanced over her shoulder and shortly replied, "Yep."

-...-...-...-...-

Liz called at 5 o'clock to tell Red that she had decided to continue helping him. If Red didn't know better, he'd swear that she sounded apologetic. She should be, he thought, but it didn't matter. He was just glad that she was coming back.

She always comes back to him.

Since he was less than satisfied with her guardian skills, he spent much of the day contemplating how he could help her to help him. Sadly, he was also less than satisfied with the feeble fruits of his contemplation. He decided that they'd discuss it when she arrives. Hopefully, she'll have some ideas of her own. He'd have to tread carefully to avoid accidentally offending her.

To an outsider, Liz's short fuse with Red would probably raise eyebrows. Without knowing the full story, how else could they react? His patience with Liz stemmed from long-term guilt over the destruction that he wrought upon her life. Fortunately, she's too strong to be fully taken down by Wrecking-Ball-Red. He had Sam to thank for that.

He chose a random manuscript from the hallway bookshelf, flicked on a lamp, and settled down to read while he waited for Lizzie. It turned out to be one of Hempstead's many incomplete and abandoned works of fiction. After struggling through a sleepless day, his eyes ached, and Red found himself looking forward to finishing the manuscript. Nonetheless, when he finally flipped the last page, the abrupt non-ending was unsettling, and left him feeling forlorn and bereft.

At 9 o'clock sharp, Liz let herself in. Like the night before, Red helped her take off and hang up her coat. She followed him to the living room and took a seat on the couch. Standing over her, Red offered her a glass of wine, and she nodded in acceptance. From the kitchen, while peeling the foil and uncorking the bottle, he launched into a story about bungee jumping over the dead sea from the vineyard-owner's helicopter.

Moments later, he returned with the bottle and two glasses.

"You look like hell," Liz commented wryly.

He responded with a shrug and took a large gulp from his glass.

She leaned forward and tilted her head. "You didn't fall asleep last night, did you?" Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but her tone held only concern.

"No, I didn't." He sighed.

"Okay. We should try going to bed early tonight."

At that, Red's first thought was a sleezy double entendre. He hummed and bit his tongue, not trusting himself to say anything inoffensive. After pausing for a moment, he switched gears. It was time to discuss strategy. "So... I'd like to preface this by saying that I do not mean to be critical, so I hope this won't come out that way, but it might."

When he paused to take a breath, Liz groaned. "Just get on with it."

"Right, yes. Well... If I have a night terror, do you think you'll wake up? After this morning, I'm a little nervous." He tapped his foot, anxiously awaiting Liz's reply.

She turned her face toward the window. "I..." she trailed off, uncertain. "I hope so."

Tentatively, Red replied, "I think we should come up with something to ensure that you do... Do you have any ideas?"

"Not really," said Liz, slowly shaking her head. "Give me a second to think about it."

"Well," Red said, "I thought of something that we should have covered yesterday."

"Like what?"

"Things you should say to me if it happens. Things to calm me down, for the sake of your safety." He chewed his cheek.

"Okay.." she replied.

Red swallowed. "Tell me that I'm asleep, and that I'm safe. Tell me that you're here. Ask me to come back to bed with you."

"Good idea." She nodded. "I can do that."

"That's only helpful if you actually do wake up."

"I'd suggest handcuffing you to the bedpost, but you'd probably like that too much." Liz couldn't resist cracking a smile.

Red chuckled and winked. "I certainly would."

"Rope?"

"Perhaps it's just my exhaustion speaking, but I don't see how tying me to the bedpost differs from cuffing me."

"No no no. I meant that we can tie ourselves together, like at the ankles or something."

Red hummed, considering her suggestion.

"Then, if you jump out of bed, you'll pull me with you. I couldn't possibly sleep through that."

"It would work, but it sounds awfully uncomfortable."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions, if you have any better ideas."

Red shrugged. "I don't."

"So... do you think there's any rope hidden around here?" Liz stood up and scanned the room with her eyes.

"Good question. I'll go look for it while you get ready for bed."

Liz pursed her lips and nodded. "Will do."

-...-...-...-...-

Fifteen minutes later, Liz was ready and waiting in bed when Red entered, rope in hand. He approached her side of the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" He asked.

Liz lifted her chin, locking eyes with him. "I'm sure." She offered a small, reassuring smile.

Oh, what he wouldn't give to have that brief exchange in an entirely different context. He peeled back the covers and climbed into bed beside her. "Would you like to tie the knot?"

Ugh. That context. Again.

"No, you can do it. Just.. not too tight."

"As you wish," he replied, and his skilled hands began to work on the knots. He carefully made them too tight to untie in his sleep, but loosely enough to quickly untie while awake, if necessary. "How's that?" He asked.

"That should work."

They laid down on their backs and pulled up their respective blankets. In the moment that a comfortable silence fell between them, a question sprang from Red's tongue, unbidden.

"Why haven't you changed your name yet? Isn't it hard to carry it around and hear it all the time?"

"That's personal." Beneath the blanket, she clenched her fists.

"Oh, come on. After all, we ARE sleeping together." Whoops.

Liz sighed heavily. "You aren't gonna let up, are you?"

"Nope."

"I kept it because... It's just... I need the reminder."

Red turned on his side to face her. "Why?"

She then turned on her side as well, and her eyes rapidly scanned his, searching for the slightest hint of ridicule. Satisfied that he really wanted to know, she spoke softly, "I need the reminder not to trust anyone too quickly. I have to keep my guard up. Keen isn't so much a name to me anymore. It's... it's more like a mantra. I can't let something like that happen to me again."

Red chewed his cheek. "You mean something like me."

"No, but.." Her eyes fell from his eyes to his lips. "But also yes."

"I understand." He finally blinked and disconnected his eyes from Liz's face, annoyed with himself for feeling hurt, and uncertain of whether or not she could tell.

"I do trust you sometimes, Red, but not all the time." The remorse in her voice was cloying.

"Like I said, I understand." He rolled onto his back again. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Red."

-...-...-...-...-...-

Two hours later, Liz woke up to her blanket being pulled off, and the rope around her ankle tugging sharply. Red was standing at the foot of the bed, covered in a thick sheen of sweat. He thrashed about wildly, terrified and clearly trying to escape. His eyes were wide open but completely unfocused and rolling.

Liz immediately sprang into action, her fear like bile rising in her throat. Was she supposed to yell, or would that make it worse? He never said, so she first tried a soothing tone. "Red, you're asleep. It's going to be okay." He didn't react, and continued pulling on the rope. In his state, he probably couldn't hear her, she reasoned. Liz wasted no time switching tactics and shouted, "RED, I'M HERE. COME BACK TO BED WITH ME. YOU'RE SAFE, RED. IT'S JUST A DREAM."

He finally managed to pull her off of the bed. Tears welled up hotly in her eyes, and a few rolled down her cheeks, but she wasn't giving up. "RED, YOU'RE SAFE. YOU HAVE ME." She reached forward to touch his arm in a bid to comfort him, but Red responded by launching his fist in her direction, and Liz just barely managed to duck and avoid it. He grunted and yanked on the rope again, still trying to run away, but Liz sank to the floor and grabbed onto the bed frame to anchor herself. That threw him off balance. Red tripped and fell down to the floor beside her with a resounding thud that woke him up.

Liz gasped, "Red?"

"What... what's going on?" He stammered in confusion, panting.

She slowly stood up and reached for his hand. "It doesn't matter. You're fine now. Come back to bed."

Still trembling in fear, he did as she asked. While relief washed over her in waves, Liz decided to break one of her own rules. She scooted herself closer to him and threw one arm across his chest. Red covered her hand with his and gently squeezed, but didn't let go.

He fell asleep quickly, but this time, still shaken, Liz could not.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Previous disclaimers still apply. So, three cheers for speedy updates, right? I'd like to thank you guys again for taking the time to read and review. Consider this fluffy chapter a token of my appreciation.

**Chapter Six**

With Red fast asleep and snoring softly, Liz gradually inched her way over, even closer to him. Seeking reassurance from his sleeping form, she slipped her hand away from his, and wedged it between the buttons of his flannel pajama top. His chest hair was both thicker and softer than she had imagined. If Red woke up, this was a dangerous position for her to be in, but she felt bold enough to proceed anyway. Slowly, she slid her hand further between the buttons, until her palm rested directly on the surprisingly-hot skin over his heart. She splayed her fingers, and it seemed to beat a little harder.

Or was it just her imagination?

For hours, neither moved, but Red murmured unintelligably from time to time. Liz strained her ears, trying to understand, half-expecting him to unwittingly reveal his secrets to her while he dreamed. When daylight began to break through the cracks in the curtains, Liz pulled her hand back and sat up. She reached toward the night stand and turned off her alarm, an hour before it was set to go off. She wanted to go downstairs to brew some coffee, but there was no way she'd be able to untie the rope without waking Red, so she picked up her phone and checked the news while she waited.

Right before her alarm would have sounded, Liz took the opportunity to scratch off yet another item from her to-do list. She laid back down beside Red and grazed his scalp with her fingertips to gently rouse him. The texture of his closely-shorn hair felt exactly as she anticipated, and her immediate thought was that she should have used her whole hand, and not just her fingertips.

Ah, well, maybe next time? (Yes, she had already decided that there would definitely be a "next time")

She wasn't given the chance to revel in the moment, because it quickly became clear that Red doesn't wake up gently. Startled, his eyes snapped open and he jolted upward, only to feel Liz's palm gently flatten over his forehead, effectively grounding him in place.

With eyes blinking rapidly in confusion, Red turned his head, still under Liz's palm, to see her propped up on her elbow, the corners of her lips turned slightly upward. "Hey," she said.

With a yawn, Red stretched his arms outward, and Liz lifted her hand. His brow furrowed. "Lizzie?" He saw a mixture of sympathy and concern swimming in her eyes, and they silently told him everything he needed to know. He sat up quickly and asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Do you need anything?"

He decided to briefly put off the necessary discussion, and instead replied glibly, "Actually, yes. The bathroom." Red could see right through her cavalier airs. She was obviously traumatized, and he hated putting her through this.

Liz sat up and pushed their blankets away, and they began untying their knots in tandem. When they broke free, Liz ambled downstairs to make coffee. While it brewed, she went back upstairs to shower and get dressed. When she was ready, she shuffled back downstairs.

Red was sitting at the kitchen table with his elbows up and a steaming-hot mug in his hands. Liz glanced at him and nodded, briefly meeting his eyes as she passed to pour a cup for herself. With a heavy sigh, she sat down beside him and took a sip of her coffee.

"Well, now YOU look like hell," Red ribbed her, trying to make light of their situation.

Liz nodded and stared into her mug.

Red canted his head. "Were you up all night?"

"No, not really. I just, I.." She didn't want him to feel guilty for interrupting her sleep, but the right words wouldn't form. Red patiently waited for her to go on. "I did sleep.. a couple hours maybe? I slept until you woke me up."

Red chewed his cheek. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I can't ask for your help anymore if it affects you like this. The most insidious part of my condition is waking with no memory of what happened. Of... of what I did."

"It was scary, Red. Terrifying. I knew, I mean, I did expect it to be bad, but.. not like that. I never would have imagined that." She took a large gulp of her coffee, not bothered by the fact that it was still too hot and burned her tongue.

"Oh my god. Did I hurt you? What happened?" He huffed and ran his hands over his scalp.

Liz set her mug down and clambered to her feet. She still didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to reassure him.

She also wouldn't take "no" for an answer, so Liz did the only thing she could think of doing. She rounded the table and stood behind him. After pausing briefly, she placed both hands on his shoulders and gently squeezed.

Startled by the contact, Red flinched and stiffened. After a few seconds, when she didn't move her hands, he sighed and relaxed. He closed his eyes and let his head hang forward.

She spoke softly, "No, you didn't hurt me. I'm okay. You're okay."

Red shook his head. "That's good, but it doesn't matter. We aren't doing this again."

Finally, she knew what to say. "Nope! You have me, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Pleased with herself, Liz cracked a tiny smile that he couldn't see.

It didn't escape Red that she was parroting his own words back to him, but he chose not to acknowledge it.

With another squeeze of his shoulders, she mimicked the tone he used the previous morning. "So, 9 o'clock again. Bye Red." She walked to the front door and turned back as she grabbed her coat, seeing that Red's eyes were still locked on her. She gave him a small smile.

In response, he held his tongue and nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: All previous disclaimers still apply. I own nothing, but I love everything, especially James Spader, and you guys! Thank you again for reading and reviewing. This is a mostly-angsty chapter, but it ends with rainbows and fluffy unicorns and happiness.

**Chapter Seven**

Liz plopped herself down on her leather office chair with a heavy sigh, letting her head roll back. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. The wheels of justice never slow down for a sleep-deprived agent.

That day, one of Red's contacts lead them to the enormous Vermont warehouse where iron and steel were forged from the primitive into a previously-unseen class of weaponry. The Blacksmith had been a power-hungry genius. He kept his groundbreaking methods a secret and enjoyed the monopoly that he built from the ground up. Unfortunately, he got wind of the FBI's arrival and thwarted their ambush by killing himself before they could bring him into custody.

At least Red didn't help him escape like Hector Lorca, Liz thought ruefully.

Earlier that afternoon, she had called Dembe to consult him about the night before. The rope. The punch. Red's wide-open and unfocused eyes. Liz told him about everything except for what she did afterward. Like always, Dembe quietly listened, but had little to say. He confirmed that Red's "episodes" always include some degree of violence. While he knew better than to try dissuading her from continuing to help, he had no qualms about vocalizing the displeasure it gave him, and he impressed upon her the importance of not letting Red find out about trying to strike her. She wouldn't even get a chance to try talking him down. He'd just disappear.

Again.

Liz was too exhausted to bother with a pitstop at her home for a change of clothes, opting to just grab the prepacked duffle bag she kept in the supply closet instead. It was only 8 o'clock, so she called Red to let him know that she was arriving early, but he didn't answer. When she pulled into the driveway, she called once more.

Again, no answer.

With a groan, Liz closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. "Goddamnit Red," she cursed, and her voice sounded too loud in the otherwise-silent car. He probably wasn't even there yet, but she unfastened her seatbelt and trudged over to the front door anyway. It was locked. She rang the doorbell and waited. The lights were off inside, but since Liz found him sitting in the dark two nights ago, that meant little.

Liz sighed, clenched her fists, and paced back and forth in front of the door, trying to decide what she should do next. It was only 8:30. Maybe he was on his way, or too busy to answer his phone. Maybe she should just sit down and wait for him.

Or maybe not.

She recalled the anguish in his eyes when he told her they weren't doing it again, and his noncommittal response after she ignored him and said she'd see him at 9.

He wasn't coming, but lucky for Liz, she still had an ace of spades up her sleeve. The only problem was that once she used it, it would be gone forever, and she could be certain that Red would never fall for it again.

But if she didn't use it now, she might not ever need it again, anyway.

Liz sprinted back to her car and voice-dialed Aram while she peeled out of the driveway. She wasted no time exchanging pleasantries or explaining the situation, and just blurted out her request instead.

"Hey, Aram? I need you to find him, and quickly, please."

"Agent Keen, yes, of course. No problem. Just give me a moment." He seemed pleasantly surprised, but also slightly nervous, as he always did when Liz called.

Seconds later, she could hear the clicking of Aram's rapid keystrokes on his laptop, and a familiar bark sounded in the background. She couldn't resist asking, "So how's Hudson doing? I miss him."

"Pretty well! He likes my cat, but I think he misses you too. You should swing by and visit him sometime soon. I, ah, we would like that."

"Yeah.. me too." She trailed off, listening to Aram's keystrokes and waiting from him to reveal Red's location. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long.

"He's in Woodbridge... at um... looks like...the hangar. Yeah, his jet."

In the interest of not having to answer any questions, Liz hastily thanked Aram and ended the call. She was only about 25 miles away, but since Red was already there, he could be up in the air and gone at any minute.

Liz tightened her grip on the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal a little harder. She was running on nothing but rage and adrenaline. Conscious thought began to escape her, and she let her id take over.

She arrived at gates of the hangar with little memory of the drive there. Instead of friendly banter with the security guards posted at the property entrance, she just flashed her badge as she passed, silently daring them to even try chasing after her. They didn't.

She parked right next to the huge and wide-open breezeway and silently tiptoed inside, where she was swiftly met with her next problem. There had to be at least 50 small jets in there, and she didn't know which one belonged to Red. She would certainly recognize it from the posh interior, but on the outside, they all looked the same to her. She couldn't ask the security guards. There was no way Red would rent the hangar space without an alias, and unfortunately, Liz didn't know it. She called Aram once more to ask if Red had left the hangar yet.

She got lucky. Aram was still tracking Red's signal, and he was still at the hangar too. Then, Liz had an idea. "Can you cross reference my exact location with his, and tell me which direction to go?"

"Ah... maybe? I think so. Hang on."

Liz bit her lip and stared down at her boots while she waited.

"Okay, Liz? I mean, Agent Keen? This isn't exact, but hopefully it's helpful anyway. Mr. Reddington is between 50 and 75 yards northwest of you right now. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, that's all. Thank you, Aram." Liz replied. Then, she slipped the phone back into her coat pocket and softly hissed, "Yesssssss" at her little victory. "Ready or not, Red, here I come."

She didn't have to rush, because none of the jets were turned on. Red probably wasn't going anywhere, she reasoned. He just needed a safe place to sleep for the night. As she silently crept forward, Liz strained her eyes and ears to detect any signs of life around her, and got another idea. From here, if his phone isn't silenced, she should be able to hear it ring. The old troglodyte probably didn't even know how to silence his phone without Dembe's help, anyway.

Liz pulled out her phone and speed dialed him without putting the phone to her ear, smirking. Her smirk widened into a grin when she faintly heard the unmistakable ring of Red's ancient Zack Morris-esque cell phone. With his jet finally singled out, she snapped a few pictures with her phone for future reference. She was so pleased with herself that she momentarily forgot how exhausted and pissed off she was. With a bounce in her step, she hummed the Saved By The Bell theme song as she approached the window closest to Red's favorite seat. She couldn't see through the window's tint, but she painted on her biggest and brightest "smartass" grin when she sharply rapped her knuckles against it. She remembered her rage, then.

A thud sounded from inside the jet, like a hardcover book hitting the floor. "Go away!" Red called out to her.

"NO!" she yelled back, undeterred.

"I told you, we aren't doing this again."

Liz stomped her foot and knocked again, "And I told YOU that I'd be back at 9."

"I'm not letting you in, Lizzie."

"Fine! But I'm not leaving. If you care about me at all, you'll change your mind."

Red took off his glasses (that Liz still didn't know about), and leaned forward, turning toward the door, watching her and trying to decide what to do next. The heavy bags under her eyes made his stomach clench and flop.

Liz turned her back toward the jet, hiding her face, just in case he was looking. She took three deep breaths and swatted away the few tears that escaped before she dared turn back again. With a soft click, the door swung open, and Red reached down to take her hand and help her climb in.

Against his better judgement, before he could talk himself down, Red pulled her into a rib-crushing embrace. She gasped and stiffened against him at first. When she felt his hot breath on her ear, she relaxed and leaned into his touch. She lifted her arms to circle around his waist, hugging him back. "Lizzie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered desperately into her ear. He took one hand from her back and combed his fingers through her hair. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, floored by the scent and the feel of him. Relief rolled off of her back in waves while her unstemmed tears soaked his collar.

When he loosened his grip, she pulled back slightly to gaze into his eyes, and she saw the challenge they offered to her. He would let her do anything she wanted to him.

Anything, but she had to make the next move.

Unblinking, he cradled her face with both hands, and used his thumbs to brush the moisture from her cheeks. Liz reached up to cover his hands with hers, and pulled them down to her side, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing. She let go of his hands and grazed her fingers up his forearms and over his biceps, where she paused briefly to squeeze them. As her fingers trailed up to the nape of his neck, she stepped forward, and his breath hitched.

Liz paused one last time, tilting her head, gazing up at Red with soft eyes seeking permission, just in case. He gave her the slightest of nods, so she guided his head down and pressed her lips to his.

-...-...-...-...-

Author's Note pt2 - So, we've finally accounted for poor Hudson. I haven't decided whether or not he'll show up again. I don't think it would be too contrived to allow Hudson to share the bed with them, in light of Red having a pup for safety purposes when he was younger.

As for the little bit about Red secretly wearing glasses, well, that's just my head canon. I couldn't resist throwing it out there.

Now, after that kiss, I feel like I may have written myself into a corner. That wasn't part of my original plan (not so soon anyway) and I'm really uncertain of how to proceed. What I WANT to do is have them deepen the kiss and go to bed with Liz spooning Red, ostensibly for safety, because they don't have a rope (that's what they'll tell themselves anyway). But if Liz is spooning him, I don't think she'd be able to miss the scars on his back. That's another can of worms that wasn't supposed to be opened yet.

Anyway, if you guys have sonething that you'd personally like to see happen next, feel free to shoot 'em my way! I'm open to suggestions.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: All previous disclaimers still apply, though the little Boston Legal elements are all but entirely gone now. I'd first like to tell you guys that this chapter starts off pretty steamy, but they don't actually have sex. Does the phrase, "close, but no cigar" apply here? Too aptly, yes, I think! Secondly, the ending of this chapter is pretty scary, much more than the scary parts you've already encountered. So... just beware, I guess? And like always, I'm tremendously appreciative of you guys for reading and reviewing. I hope you'll find that this chapter lives up to the previous ones. I think it does, anyway.

**Chapter Eight**

The joining of their lips signaled the demolition of one of many lines previously drawn in the sand. With that gone, neither attempted to draw a new one. They continued to kiss softly, at first, but within seconds, Red's hands landed on Liz's hips, pulling her closer. She dug her nails into the back of his head, and her tongue grazed over his bottom lip, seeking entrance. In an effort to slow her down, but without denying her entry, Red's jaw lowered slightly at first. Only the tip of her tongue made it past his teeth, but the sensation was enough to make him gasp and lower it further.

Red took control then, plunging his own tongue into her mouth, and pushing her backward, up against the door. Liz hitched one leg up, around his waist, and Red dropped his hand to hold the back of her knee, offering support and balance. When he finally pulled his lips away from hers, letting her catch her breath, he didn't offer himself the same luxury. Instead, he lowered his mouth to the crook of her neck, and feasted upon her pale and sensitive skin. She moaned when his tongue found the pulse of her carotid artery, and he reflexively pressed against her, harder. When her hands moved to his belt, clumsily trying to unbuckle it, he came to his senses and dropped her leg. "Lizzie.." he managed to utter, his voice low and raspy with need. Red put his hands over hers and guided them away from his belt. "We can't." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers for several seconds. When he opened them again, her own eyes bore holes into his. He tried but failed to understand what they were trying to tell him. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."

Liz bit her lip and looked away.

"Say something," he pleaded.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Please, Lizzie."

Finally, she let her eyes settle back upon his. "You're right," she choked out. "I got carried away. I'm sorry."

Red pulled her back into his arms again and kissed her temple, sighing heavily. "If only you had any idea how much and how long I've wanted to do that, and more. I never thought that you..." he trailed off, and tightened his grip around her.

"Let's just go to bed. I'm so tired," she said.

Red lowered his face so his cheek pressed against hers, and he nodded. "Gosh, Lizzie, is there anything you won't do to try to get me into bed?"

She could feel the corner of his mouth tighten into a smirk, and she indignantly pressed her finger into his navel. "Hey jerk, that's my line!"

Red took her hands in his, "Not this time, sweetheart. Come on, let's go get your stuff out of your car."

She groaned, "Ugh, I don't feel like it. I only brought the spare clothes I keep at the post office anyway."

He glanced down at her skin-tight, black skinny jeans, and chewed his cheek thoughtfully. "I don't think you'll be very comfortable sleeping in those."

Liz responded with a shrug, and unbuttoned her jeans. As she started to slide the zipper down, she glanced back up at him and said, "I never said I was wearing these to bed." She slowly and deliberately hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down her thighs, and grabbed Red's shoulder for support while she stepped out of them, one leg at a time. Only then did she chance a glance at Red's face.

His jaw was dropped. His eyes clouded over with lust. Liz smirked. He was actually speechless. When he finally spoke, the only thing he could say was, "When did you take your boots off?" Liz playfully slapped his butt and took his hand, slowly leading him past the curtains toward the twin-sized bed in the back.

Her panties were red cotton, boyshorts style, and just a little bit too small, so the bottom two inches of her rear end were exposed. Red knew she was walking slowly on purpose, swinging her hips, giving him more time to rake his eyes up and down her backside, and he was too stunned to protest, or to even call her out on it. Once she got to the bed, she crawled across it to grab the top corner of the blanket and pull it down, still very much putting on a show for him. Red bit his tongue, utterly incapable of saying anything that wasn't salacious.

Liz fluffed the pillows and turned around to face him, settling down on the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles. Red still wasn't talking, or even moving, so she leaned forward to try unbuckling his belt again. Through his clenched teeth he finally hissed out, "Lizzie!"

"Oh come on, Red. I'm not going to have sex with you, so you can stop worrying about that. But those trousers look even less comfortable to sleep in than mine do." She looked up at him and batted her eyelashes.

Red sighed. She knew what she was doing. He was quite certain of that. His present dilemma was his body's response to everything she'd done over the last 15 minutes. She must have known already, since she did it all on purpose, but that didn't mean he wanted her to see it. He put his hands on his hips and turned around so his back was toward her. After a couple more calming breaths, he began to unbuckle his belt, and changed the subject. "We don't have any rope."

"I already thought about that," she said.

He slid the belt free of his belt loops and tossed it aside. "So, I take it you have another idea?"

"Don't I always?" she playfully responded.

Red nodded, and started to unbutton his dress shirt. "Let me guess... parachord?" When he didn't hear her respond, he assumed she was shaking her head no, so he continued guessing. "Luggage straps? My belt? Hand cuffs? Zip ties?" He pulled his arms free of the dress shirt and carefully hung it up, chancing a glance back in her direction. She was just sitting there with the most adorable, impish grin on her face, and Red couldn't help chuckling. "None of the above?"

At that, Liz flopped over on her side and errupted into a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?" Red asked.

Liz was curled up in the fetal position, grasping her her waist, shaking her head, and howling with laughter.

Red cocked his head to the side, bemused, waiting for her to regain the ability to speak. Her cheeks were flushed, and for just a moment, he worried that she was laughing at him. What did he do, anyway? Well, he thought, at least he could safely pull his pants down now, so he did.

Liz started to speak, "It's just... it's just.." she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Without lifting her head, she spoke loudly enough for Red to hear her muffled voice, "You were standing there, with your ass like, a foot away from my face, and I... I don't even know what you said. I forgot what we were talking about. God, Red!"

He carefully hung up his pants and sat down next to her, laughing quietly through his pursed lips. "Seriously? MY ass was distracting YOU?"

Liz nodded.

"We were talking about alternatives to rope. You said you had an idea, so I was trying to guess what it was."

"Oh my god, yes! Well, that's embarrassing."

Red smirked, "Not for me. I'm quite flattered, actually." He rested his hand on top of hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "So, what was your idea?"

"You lay on this side," she pointed to the side against the wall, "and I'll lay on this one." She pointed to the other side. "If you get up, you'll have to crawl over me, to get out of bed. I couldn't possibly sleep through that."

"Mmmmhmm.. that could work. Now, I don't want to get ahead of myself here, but I've got to ask, which rules am I allowed to break tonight?"

Liz responded by pushing his shoulders back and swinging her leg over his waist to straddle him, all in one swift motion. She leaned forward, sinking her weight down on him, and latched onto his neck with her mouth.

Red gasped, surprised, and choked out, "Lizzie!"

She slipped off of him and crawled under the blanket, and then grabbed the collar of his undershirt and gently tugged, beckoning him to lay down beside her. "What?" She replied coyly. "I was just answering your question. That's how much you can do. I thought a demonstration would get my point across better. Saying 'hug, kiss, cuddle, and grind' just didn't seem as appealing as doing it." She batted her eyelashes at him again.

"You're playing with fire." Red replied, but laid down on his back beside her and wrapped one arm around her anyway, lacing the fingers of that hand with hers. She rolled onto her side and rested her head on his chest, and hitched one leg up, over his waist, smiling in the dark when she felt him twitch beneath her.

Red took the opportunity to gently squeeze her ass with his free hand, and she responded by lifting her head to plant a chaste kiss on his jaw. "Goodnight," she said.

Red kissed her temple and tightened his arm around her. "Goodnight, Lizzie."

-...-...-...-...-

Less than two hours later, Liz was awakened by Red's voice, but it came out garbled, and she couldn't understand what he was saying. Red pulled his hand free of hers, and Liz lifted her head to look at him, squinting to make out his features in the dark. His eyes were closed. Liz realized that he was still asleep. For a moment, she thought about waking him. Was this the beginning of a night terror? Was he about to try to take off? She decided to wait it out, and see what happened next.

Pieces of sentences started to come out clearly enough for her to understand. "No! No! He didn't say you had a ghurdhstdykfi!"

Huh?

"No! Djfcutjjpgdbjfcj believe you!"

She felt his body, as tight as a bowstring, tremble slightly under her.

"Then get her! Then you die! And I'll ddhclvuvkrfhicturdhcd."

In that moment, her curiosity gave way to fear. She sat up, and kneeled beside him in order to see his face more clearly.

"Oh my god! I hear her! I'm hfxhrjgoyftfjj!"

Red opened his eyes and bolted upright, pushing back the blanket, but before he could climb over her to take off, Liz launched herself toward him. She landed on his back and latched on with both her arms and legs.

Red grunted and flailed his arms, trying to free himself, still asleep.

Liz leaned in, her breath hot on his neck, and shouted, "Red you're having a dream! It's okay Red! I'm here! You're safe! Lay down, Red! It's okay! It's Lizzie! I'm here!"

His shoulders heaved with the effort to escape, and he rocked forward and backward, still trying to dislodge her.

"I'm coming!" He shouted, and Lizzie tightened her arms and legs around him.

Then, Red opened his mouth, tipped his head back, and let out the most blood-curdling scream that Liz had ever heard in her life. He swatted at his shoulder, shaking violently. "I'm on fire!" He screamed.

Liz summoned every ounce of strength in her body and tightened her arms and legs around him even more. "Red wake up! You're with me! Lay down, Red! You're safe!" Why wasn't he waking up? What else could she do?

He continued to thrash beneath her, and in an act of desperation, Liz leaned forward and sank her teeth into his neck.

Red groaned and instantly went limp beneath her.

Liz let go and crawled around to face him. She cradeled his face in her palms and looked into his eyes while he panted and blinked in confusion. "Shh.. It's okay, Red. It's okay." She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, soaking his undershirt with her tears.

He lifted his arms and hugged her back, still catching his breath. He ran his fingers through her hair. "What happened?" He asked, shakily.

Liz wasn't up for recounting the horror story yet. Instead, she let go and scooted herself backward, lifting the blanket. She patted his spot next to her. "Later, okay? Just come lay down."

Red nodded and silently obeyed her request, laying on his side, facing the wall.

Liz spooned herself against him, pressed tightly against his back, her palm resting over his heart. Within seconds, Red fell back asleep, and she buried her face into his shoulder.

Something felt "off" about it. She didn't notice it while he was thrashing around moments earlier, but lying still, it was quite apparent. She slipped her hand from his chest and gently tugged the collar of his shirt, exposing the spot he tried to swat at earlier,

when he said he was on fire.

Liz's jaw dropped when she saw the exposed scars, and her mind reeled, frantically piecing everything together.

But she was still exhausted, so very exhausted, so she dropped her head back down on the pillow, and tightly wrapped her arm around him once more.

If there is a god, He or She must have finally taken pity on Liz. Mercifully, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: All previous disclaimers still apply. And AHHHHH this is the first time I've gotten 100+ reviews on a story. I'm touched and totally thrilled! Thanks to everyone for taking this ride with me. As always, I hope this chapter will be enjoyed.

**Chapter Nine**

Sheltered from the early morning light inside the hangar, both Liz and Red didn't wake up until the alarm on Liz's phone sounded. Bleary-eyed, she hit the snooze button, but did so only with the intent of buying herself time to think, not sleep. She was sorely tempted to pull his shirt collar down, so she could inspect the scars again before confronting him.

Elizabeth Keen. Elizabeth Keen.

Keen. Keen. Keen.

Ha! Some fucking mantra, that was. And what could she do? The scars, the screams-they were Red's metaphorical box beneath the floorboards. She really needed to think this through, and if she couldn't maintain her composure, there was no way in hell Red would tell her anything.

For a moment, Liz considered playing dumb. Red doesn't know what he's revealed to her in his sleep, and he obviously wasn't ready to tell her. Even if she stays calm, most likely, he'll clam up and say nothing, or worse, he could make himself disappear forever. Red's words echoed in her mind. "I offer that particular package to my clients."

Last night, he didn't mention the way she tracked him down, but surely he figured it out. He might not know where she embedded the tiny chip, but he's too smart to take any chances. He'd literally leave everything behind.

Liz reached behind her to cut off the alarm, mere seconds before it would have gone off again. She laid back down and put her arm around Red's waist again, all set to try waking him another way. Her fingers skimmed just beneath the elastic of his boxers.

He flinched and rolled over to gaze at her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Liz laced her fingers with his and leaned in for a languid, sensual kiss. "Hmmm... good morning," he said. Instead of a reply, Liz just smiled and kissed him again.

It hit her then, in that quiet and comfortable moment. She could love him. Not only could she, but she wanted to, as well. In light of her yet-to-be-explained discovery, the thought was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Keen. Keen. Keen. She might have to change her mind soon.

"Hey, I'm just gonna grab my bag out of my car real quick. I'll be right back, okay?"

Red nodded and bit back the impulse to offer to get her things for her. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch her bare legs as she walked away, and flopped back down on the pillow when she was gone. They were moving too quickly, physically, and he felt almost powerless to stop or even slow down. In the moment, there was nothing he wanted more than her, but until she knows the truth, he can't have her.

And once she knows, she probably won't want him. It would break his heart, but he wouldn't blame her.

A couple minutes later, Liz came back, duffle bag in hand, and a smile on her lips.

"What?" Red asked.

She dropped the bag at the foot of the bed, her smile widening at his confusion.

Red pursed his lips. "Do you want me to guess?"

Liz shook her head and replied, "Today, you're my alibi."

He canted his head thoughtfully, and finally caught on. "You're skipping work? Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie..." he mock-chided her.

"I told Cooper we had to attend a silent auction slash cocktail party in Prague to gain favor with an unnamed contact that we'll need soon. That should buy us about two days, right?"

Red's jaw dropped the slightest bit. "Devious! I'm so proud."

She sat down beside him and said, "So, since I came up with the excuse, YOU have to come up with the truth." She gently elbowed his ribs.

He stilled and looked at her closely, perplexed and vaguely suspicious.

"Come on Red, you're the globe trotter. Where are we really going? You pick."

"Ah!" He nodded thoughtfully. "Has anyone ever told you how radiant you would look, lounging beneath the tent of a palmetto haven?"

Liz shook her head and laughed. "Nope! Can't say it's ever come up."

"Good. I'll call my pilot and ask him to gas up the jet. In the meantime, we'll go back to your place to shower and pack. We can be in Charleston in three hours."

Liz fretted for a moment, trying to recall the present state of her home. Did she leave dishes in the sink? Dirty clothes on the floor? Oh screw it, she decided. She would be too quick to give him a chance to inspect the place too closely. Since they were going, she decided not to bother changing into the clothes in her duffle bag, and sat quietly while Red meticulously overdressed himself, as usual (not that she minded).

Red called the pilot while they walked to her car, and when Liz fished the keys out of her pocket, Red leaned over and grabbed them. "I feel like driving," he said, as if she couldn't possibly mind. It felt like a test. She narrowed her eyes at him, but played along otherwise. She didn't mind too much.

After getting settled into the driver's seat and adjusting the mirrors, Red started the car. He winced when the radio turned on with it, and swatted at the buttons, trying to turn it off, but he only managed to change the station. "A little help, Lizzie?"

Liz grinned and shook her head before launching into the cheesy pop song's chorus. The look of horror on his face only fueled her glee. She sang a little louder, for a moment, and then took pity on him, and turned it off.

Red sighed in relief, and dropped one hand from the steering wheel, laying it palm-up on the console, in invitation. She took it and gently squeezed. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

After manuvering through the on-ramp, they merged onto Interstate 95, and Red reclaimed his hand, pointing at his neck. "Tell me about this."

Liz leaned over to inspect the bite mark. It didn't look too bad, considering how hard she had bit him. Not bringing it up herself was probably a mistake though. She took a page from Red's book, and offered him the truth, but not all of it. "You wouldn't wake up. I didn't know what else to do."

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"

Liz reached over and rubbed the back of his neck, watching his eyelashes flutter in pleasure, despite the serious tone of the conversation. "No, of course not. You'd never hurt me."

He sighed. "Would you tell me if I did?"

"You wouldn't."

"But if I did?"

"You wouldn't!"

They rode in silence the rest of the way. Just before parking, Red had an idea. "How about I go pick up breakfast while you get ready? That bistro we just passed makes the best spinach and feta omelets."

Liz was delighted! Red was actually going to pass on the opportunity to snoop around while she showered? "Do they have fresh-squeezed orange juice too?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Oh my goodness. I should hope so."

She unbuckled her seatbelt. "Okay. I'd like that too, and coffee, please."

"With soy milk and four sugars?" Red replied.

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, and said, "Yes, please. And later, we're going to talk about how it is that you already know that."

Red smiled, winked, and pulled away.

-...-...-...-...-

An hour later, they were back in the jet, taking off from the bumpy little private airstrip. Her idea was taken from yet another proverbial page in Red's book. Earlier, when Liz came up with the plan, she was hoping that Red would choose a more exotic destination, or at least somewhere with a longer flight. It would only take about an hour to get to Charleston, so she couldn't waste time. Red might clam up and refuse to tell her anything, but at least he couldn't run from her. Not yet, anyway.

When they leveled out, no longer gaining altitude, Liz took a deep breath and turned toward him. "I have to ask you something, but first, I need to impress upon you my readiness to accept the truth, whatever it is. I know that you have reasons for everything you do, like the blacklisters, me, Sam, and all of the deals you broker, but I'm not asking you to lay it all out for me." She paused to think, never dropping her gaze from his.

She continued, "And while I don't know what happened, I do know that you didn't abandon your family. I know that you'd never do that."

Red chewed his cheek, both nervous and curious about where she was going with this.

"In the short time that I've known you, you've taken on a countless number of risks, and so many of those risks have been on my behalf... like when you came out of the box. I thought I'd never see you again. And when they came to arrest you in the park, and I tried to tip you off. You refused to go with me, because even after what I did, you still didn't want me to get in trouble. You just dropped to your knees, ready and willing to accept whatever they might have done to you." Her eyes began to well up with tears. She had just admitted aloud the very thing she had been lying to herself about for months. She hadn't intended to reveal so much, and she was straying away from her point.

After a fortifying breath, she continued. "All of that is to say, that while I've seen you commit of multitude of heinous acts, over time, I've come to understand that you have noble, or in the very least, valid motives. I've seen you commit enough selfless acts to know that in your heart, you're a good man, and as far as I know, you've stayed good on your word to never lie to me. So, I trust you. Sometimes the wall you've built around yourself infuriates the hell out of me, but I trust you." She took Red's hand in hers, lacing their fingers.

"No matter how ugly the true answer is, I can take it. I'm not going to back out on you. We're in this together, Red."

Finally satisfied with her preamble, she pounced on the question. "The fire, when I was a little girl... did you start it, and did you save me? I always thought my father saved me, but..."

Red's jaw tensed, and he closed his eyes, trying to mask his reeling mind while he searched for the right answer.

"Please, Red. I'm not asking you to tell me why. Just tell me if you did or not. Please."

Seconds ticked by. Liz's heart jumped up and down as if it wanted to escape, and she would have gladly gone with it.

Finally, Red's lips parted to speak. "Your father did save you, but so did I. My accomplice set the fire."

Liz bit her lip. "I... I don't understand. You both saved me?"

"Where is this coming from, Lizzie? What put it into your head?"

"Last night, you were talking in your sleep. I thought about waking you up, at first, but... I don't know why, I just didn't. I should have. Before I knew it, all hell broke loose. You started swatting at your back and screaming that you were on fire. I couldn't wake you up, and that's when I bit you."

Red wrapped his arms around her and shuddered, trying to soothe himself as much as Liz. "Are you angry?" he asked, clearly anxious about how she might respond.

Without letting go, she shook her head.

Red's body went slack, overtaken by relief. "I'll tell you what I can, if you want to know."

"I do, but you don't have to tell me now."

Red was taken aback. That kind of patience seemed very unlike her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Lizzie pulled herself free of Red's arms, and rested her forehead on his, her eyes wide open. "Yes, I am."

She put her hand on the back of his head and kissed him passionately, drawing a throaty moan from his lips. Gazing into his eyes, she added, "Because I have you."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: All previous disclaimers still apply. In this chapter, you'll finally get Red's account of what happened on the night of the fire. Obviously, since the events surrounding the fire haven't been revealed in canon yet, this is total conjecture on my part. The details are crafted specifically to serve this story, but I don't think they exceed the realm of possibility.

"a prayer for the lovers

beneath the stars and the moon

the palm trees and the bay breeze

of a graveyard's croon

a lament for the eyes

full of gaze and swoon

taken by the charm of the holy city"

(Lyrical excerpt from Holy City, by Jump, Little Children)

**Chapter Ten**

Moments after touching down in Charleston, a towncar arrived to pick them up. Lizzie overheard Red giving their driver an address in James Island, and she couldn't resist the urge ask, "James Island? I thought we were going to Charleston."

He responded with the type of smirk that used to infuriate her, and replied, "Our safe house is on James Island, but we ARE still going to Charleston. However, if the safe house isn't to your liking, Charleston does have a few hotels that meet my standards."

With her index finger, Liz traced a little heart shape on his palm. "You always have a backup plan, don't you?"

"No, not always," he replied, "but surely you can see why it's adventageous to make everyone think that I always do."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a gated mansion with a long, U-shaped driveway. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment," Red said, slipping out of the car. He pressed a button on the call box in front of the gate. "Anders! We're here."

A voice boomed from the box, "The password?"

Red put his palm over his stomach and chuckled. "Pocketbook jellyfish."

"You remembered!" the voice from the box shouted. With a buzz and a click, the iron gate slowly swung open. Red reclaimed his seat beside Liz, taking pleasure in her confused expression.

"Pocketbook jellyfish? Seriously?" she asked.

"Not exactly... The last time I stayed here, Anders tried to set me up with a beautiful but extremely drunk woman who barely spoke a word of English. When she tried to ask me to go to bed with her, somewhere in the garbled request, she actually said 'pocketbook jellyfish'. When I told Anders about it the next morning, I thought he'd never stop laughing. He decided that it would be the perfect gate entry password. God, that must have been five or six years ago. I can't believe he actually remembered it."

Liz's jaw lowered, incredulous, wondering why she had to ask. A sudden wave of jealousy compelled her to say, "So... did you?"

"Did I pocketbook jellyfish her, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Goddamnit Red, she thought, but only said, "Yes," again.

"Well, it's a little embarrassing for me, and I didn't tell Anders about this part, so I'll appreciate you keeping it to yourself, but... and like I said, she was very, very drunk. I was quite inebriated, myself." He sighed. "So the answer is 'no'. She actually passed out, ah.. mid-pocketbook."

Liz bit her lip and turned away, failing miserably in her attempt to suppress her laughter. Red crossed his arms and waited for her to finish, but fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. Her laughter was cut short by the realization that they had arrived at their destination. Liz wiped a tear from her eye just before Red came around to open the door for her. A portly, overly-tanned man wearing a grey silk robe swung the mansion's front door open. While the driver unloaded their luggage, Red took Liz's hand and lead her toward the man. "Anders!" He shouted enthusiastically and hugged him. "Lizzie, I'd like you to meet Anders. Anders, this is Lizzie."

She extended her hand, smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Liz."

Rather than shaking her hand, Anders brought it to his lips and kissed it instead, and replied, "No no no, the pleasure is all mine, mon ami." Liz shot Red a sideways glance, and Anders turned toward him, "Red, how is it that we get older and uglier, and all the women just get younger and prettier?"

Red shook his head chuckled. "Baffling, isn't it?"

Liz took his hand and planted a chaste kiss on his jaw. "You're not ugly."

Seeing that the driver had finished unloading their things, Red stepped aside and paid the man, declining his offer to bring their bags inside.

After meeting Anders, a hotel in Charleston was looking like an increasingly-attractive option. Liz hoped that Red was seriously willing to go if she asked.

Anders lead them inside and interrupted her thoughts. "I hate to be such a neglectful host, especially since we haven't had a chance to catch up yet, but I was just getting ready to leave for Cannes. You're more than welcome to help yourselves to anything here." He pointed to a small panel on the wall. "These are in every room in the house. If you need anything at all, just press the button to talk to my groundskeeper, Lester. If you want to go somewhere, he'll notify my driver to come pick you up."

"Anders, you are a prince. Thank you." Red replied, patting the man's forearm.

"We'll have to catch up soon, Ray." He turned toward Liz and winked. "Watch out for this guy, Lisa. He's an animal," Then he turned and sauntered down the hall.

Nonplussed, Red picked up his suitcase, and gestured for Liz to do the same. He placed his hand on the small of her back, "Come Lizzie, our room has a spectacular view of the Atlantic. You'll love it."

Liz soon found that their room far exceeded her expectations. After they settled in, Red used the call box to request a driver. While they waited, Liz changed into a knee-length white linen dress, and paired it with strappy brown leather sandals. Red's eyes lit up when he saw her, and he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "You look resplendent." He cooed into her ear. Liz sighed and leaned against him, momentarily weakened by his tone.

The driver dropped them off in downtown Charleston, near the open air market. The humidity was stifling, and Liz wondered how Red could possibly be comfortable in his suit. He lead her by the hand to a booth where several women were weaving intricate baskets out of sweetgrass. "They make hats too." He said, and pointed to a wooden rack that was lined up with at least a dozen handmade hats of various styles. His eyes quickly scanned the selection, and settled on a fedora that was embellished with a brown band and a white feather rosette. He picked it up to inspect it more closely.

"Red!" Liz chided, "Don't you already have like a million hats?"

He shook his head, smiling. "A man can never have too many hats." Then, in one seamless motion, he plopped it on her head and turned her toward a small mirror. "But this one is for you."

Liz shook her head, pleasantly surprised. It actually looked pretty good on her. She liked it.

Red didn't wait for a response. By the time she finished inspecting her appearance in the mirror, he had already paid for it. She turned around in time to see him putting his wallet back into his inner coat pocket. "Thank you. I love it." She leaned in to kiss him, but accidentally bumped the brim of her hat against his, knocking it off of his head.

He caught it and grinned. "You're welcome, but we'll have to work on that."

"So, now that I have a hat, does that mean we're skipping the shady 'palmetto haven' thing?"

"Oh no." He shook his head, "Not at all. You'll see what I meant soon. We're going to the battery. Do you mind walking?" He paused and glanced down at her sandals. "I find that the holy city is best viewed on foot."

"Lead the way!" she replied.

They strolled down the sidewalk, arm-in-arm, and Liz listened with interest while Red took on the role of her personal tour guide, in his quintessential troubadour style. Historic facts were blended with personal anecdotes from his time in the navy. Liz couldn't help noticing that she liked his stories when he wasn't using them to distract her.

When they reached the end of the street, a clearing that was peppered with ancient live oak trees came into view. Red lead her through them, to a metal railing overlooking the water, and he pointed out Fort Sumpter in the distance. They leaned against the railing and rested, taking in the view.

After a moment, Red turned toward Liz and lifted her hand to kiss the scar on her wrist. "I thought this would be a good place to tell you about the fire."

Liz closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. When she opened them, the worry etched on Red's face made her swallow, but she was ready. She was more than ready. "Tell me."

"It started with my wife, and my daughter. You're right that I didn't abandon them, but I also don't know what actually happened to them, either. That's another story in and of itself. When it became clear that they were taken by someone extremely powerful and dangerous, my only chance, my only hope, was to enlist the help of people that were equally powerful and dangerous."

He went on, "I discovered an alliance of corrupt politicians and white collar thugs that should have been able to help, but nothing is ever free, and I wasn't a wealthy man. They gave me an accomplice and an assignment: to make one of their enemies disappear overnight, by setting fire to his house."

"I later learned that they believed that they were sending me on a suicide mission of sorts, because the man was very much like the one who took my wife and daughter. He wasn't just an enemy of the alliance. He was an enemy of everyone, and I was young and sloppy and unskilled. I thought we would just use an accelerant, sneak inside while he slept, clock him on the head, tie him up, and hope the smoke killed him before the fire turned him into ashes. I wasn't a monster yet."

"And everything... everything was going so smoothly at first. Too smoothly. The arrogant sonofabitch didn't even lock the back door. I just let myself in while my accomplice dumped the accelerant. Then, I didn't even have to find his bedroom, because he was passed out drunk in the living room. I whacked him in the head and started tying him to a kitchen chair. But he..."

"But he came to, seconds later. I didn't hit him hard enough, and the fire had already been set. He started yelling that his daughter was in the house, and I didn't believe him, because no one had ever said anything about him having a daughter. I thought he was supposed to be alone... but then I..."

Red paused for a few seconds, taking a deep breath, trying to stifle the sob that refused to go away.

"Then I heard you scream, from the other side of the house, and everything else was just.. I was on autopilot. I cut the ropes, so he could go find you, and I ran outside. But a few seconds later, your screams changed. They were just.. pure terror. I thought you were trapped, or burned, or something. I went back in, and ran upstairs. I couldn't even see through the smoke, but I tripped on something in the hall. It was the man. And you had stopped screaming. You were just sitting on top of him."

"While I was trying to get you out of there, something dropped from the ceiling and landed on me. My shirt caught on fire. The pain was... it was excruciating. But I got you out."

"I left the man, your father, on the floor, so.. the job was done. I left my accomplice behind too, to find his own way home, because he didn't know that I had you."

"Lizzie, I never.. I swear that I wouldn't have done it, if I had known about you. When we left, the only thing I knew was that the alliance and all of your father's other enemies would believe that you had died with him, and the only way to keep you safe was to make sure it stayed that way. It was all my fault, so it became my priority to protect you. That's why I can't tell you his name, and that's why I brought you to the most trustworthy man I knew."

Liz took off her hat, dropped her head against Red's chest, and said the only thing she could choke out, "Sam."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: All previous disclaimers still apply. In this chapter, Red and Liz continue their stroll through Charleston, and Red tries to answer the questions she has after hearing his story. Like the previous chapter, you'll find a lot of personal, non-canon conjecture, crafted specifically for this story. Again, I tried to keep things within the realm of possibility, based on the few puzzle pieces the show has given us. Thanks for sticking with me so far!

**Chapter Eleven**

After Red finished telling the story, they started walking again, past regal colonial mansions and through ornate private and public botanical gardens. As resplendent as the palmettos and the gardens were, Liz found that she loved the wild Spanish moss, dripping from the branches of the live oaks, most of all. In the interest of letting Liz process everything, Red spoke very little.

When they approached the fountain in Waterfront Park, Liz hooked her finger through one of Red's belt loops, and gently pulled him toward a bench to sit down. She leaned down and pulled back the ankle straps on her sandals, inspecting the blisters she'd been ignoring for the last hour. Curious and unsure of what she was doing, Red bent down to look as well, and he winced even harder than she did. "Lizzie, your ankles!"

She shrugged. "It's okay, I'll just leave the straps unbuckled."

For a few minutes, they sat in companionable silence, holding hands, but Liz brought up the fire again. "Why did you let me think that my father saved my life? That it was only him, I mean."

Red turned his shoulders to face her, so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I didn't want to tarnish the only memory you had of your father by inserting myself into the center of it, especially after taking Sam and Tom from you. That memory was all you had left, and it wasn't untrue. He did pull you out of the flames. He died trying to save you."

Liz sighed. "Tom wasn't even real."

"Did that make it hurt any less?" Red asked pointedly.

"No, but..." She shook her head and looked down at her hands. "I still don't understand why he said that my father's still alive. If you left him in the house, then he burned with it."

"For this, Lizzie. He did it to make this happen. He did it for the reason he did so many other things- to control you. Tom saw the opportunity to fill your head with doubt one last time, and he took it."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, but she lifted her eyes to Red's again. "I don't know... Didn't you think Garrick was dead after you shot him in the face? You would have shot him again if you knew that he was still alive. What if my father wasn't dead or passed out when you tripped over him? You even said that you couldn't see him through the smoke. And you also said that you were young and unskilled, unwittingly pitted against a ruthless man. What if he got up and ran out the back door? What if he knew that you'd come back for me, and he fell on purpose? Maybe he just saw me as a means to an end, his only chance to escape. What if he didn't risk his life to save me, but risked mine to save himself?"

Red pulled her against his chest, gently rubbing her back in an effort to console her. He hated not having answers, and this was one such moment. His only option was to tell her what he felt. "I can't disprove any of that, but I don't believe it to be true. You're right that I thought I had killed Anslo when I shot him, but it wasn't long before I found out that I was wrong. The fire was two decades ago, and I've had my hands immersed in your father's world ever since. If he had survived, I believe he would have resurfaced by now."

Liz shuddered against his chest. "But you don't really have your hands in everything now. You don't know everyone. You didn't know Berlin, and he was attacking your interests for years. For all we know, Berlin could have been working for my father. Can't you just hire a team to search for him, just in case he's still out there?"

"No, I can't. Because if he is out there, and he's good enough to have stayed hidden for this long, then I have to assume that he would get wind of the search before he's found. It could provoke him to do something to you, and he isn't worth the risk. Nothing is worth losing you. I'm sorry, but I need you to trust me about this." He pulled back to kiss her tear-streaked cheeks.

Liz took a moment to straighten herself up, thankful that they were so far from DC, that no one here would recognize her. Crying in public isn't so horrible when you're anonymous, but still, it would be nice if she had some means of hiding her eyes.

Then, Liz had an idea. She turned toward Red and quickly took off his sunglasses, putting them on herself before he could protest.

"Lizzie wa-" He tried, but it was too late.

Liz furrowed her brow and took them off again, glancing sideways at Red, who had closed his eyes and tightened his lips.

"Prescription? I didn't know you need glasses..." She was perplexed. "Why don't you ever wear them? Why just the sunglasses?"

Red momentarily ignored the question, standing and offering his hand to help her up. "I'm starving. Let's find somewhere to eat. There's an old restaurant on King Street with a sizeable selection of beers on tap."

Liz warily accepted his hand, and agreed that she too was feeling famished, and after everything they just discussed, a drink would be nice, too.

They walked in silence for awhile, and when they turned onto King Street, Liz tripped and stubbed her toe.

Bent over to inspect the damage, Red said, "You should throw away those sandals. They look nice, but they aren't worth it. We can swing by Copper Penny or Gucci after lunch."

Liz huffed in annoyance. "The sandals are fine. They're just new and haven't been broken in yet. I tripped because the straps are unbuckled and I didn't notice the switch from pavement to cobblestones."

Red shrugged. "Suit yourself, but if you change your mind later, the offer still stands."

"I won't. And my ankle boots are at the safe house anyway. I don't need new shoes."

When they arrived at the restaurant, they were seated immediately. Out of habit, Red chose the side facing the door, so he could see everyone who entered after them. After pouring over the drink menu, both selected from the list of local brews. Liz chugged a third of her beer all at once, and let the glass hit the table with an exaggerated thud.

Red eyed her cautiously. He knew she was mad, but he didn't want to comment and anger her further.

After they placed their orders with the server, Liz let it out. "You didn't answer my question about the glasses, and I know you heard me. You can't just change the subject, ply me with booze, and offer to buy me things to distract me." She paused to sip her beer, and added, pointedly, "I. Am. Not. Madeline. Pratt."

Red nodded. "No, you really aren't, are you? I know that. Maddie was too easy."

Liz narrowed her eyes, "And putting her down isn't a sufficient distraction, either."

He sighed. "I do wear glasses, you're right, but they signal a weakness on my part, and that's why I never wear them. These suits, the hats, the sunglasses, I don't just wear them because I like them, or because they're expensive, or because they look good. It's about the image they project. It's about what other people see when they look at me. Glasses wouldn't destroy that image, but they would weaken it."

Liz tilted her head thoughtfully, and decided that his explanation was mostly sufficient, except for one thing. "Why not wear contacts? I do."

"Because I hate them. They're extremely uncomfortable. Surely you can understand that, since you wear them."

She reached her hand under the table, and grabbed his knee. "I do. Sorry I snapped at you."

Red nodded and covered her hand with his. "I'm sorry I wasn't forthcoming with an answer."

When the server arrived with their meals, both turned their attention to their food, and spoke very little. After they finished, Red called the driver to come pick them up, and Liz ordered a slice of cheesecake to-go.

Settled in the backseat of the towncar, Red leaned back against the headrest and turned his face toward Liz. "I do have glasses though, if you would like to see them."

She grinned and bounced in the seat excitedly, "Yes, I can't wait! I bet you look sexy in glasses."

Red reached over and laced his fingers with hers. "I don't know, but if it makes you this happy, I certainly hope so."

-...-...-...-...-

Post-Chapter Author's Note: For the record, I don't think glasses would screw up Red's look at all. Actually, there's a few on-set rehersal photos floating around that show James dressed as Red but wearing his own glasses and they're so very UNF, I can't! Also, ever since seeing Alan Shore wearing glasses in the first episode of The Practice, I've lamented that someone decided to take them away. Seriously, why would they do that? The glasses are hot, and the poor man is practically blind without them. Anyway, I couldn't think of a better explanation for Red to give Liz for not wearing them, so I hope that no one was insulted by it.

In the next chapter, Red shows Liz the glasses, and she'll ask to see his scars. Now that Liz knows what his night terrors are about, they'll talk about why he's started having them again. It might be feely. It might be steamy. It might be both. I don't know yet, so stay tuned! And thank you so much for reading and reviewing.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: All previous disclaimers still apply. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. THIS CHAPTER! I don't even know what to say. There's a lot of steam, but the feels are really thrown into overdrive. I'll just go ahead and tell you that YES they are gonna get it on, but I bypassed the really smutty details. If you need some serious smut, check out one of my other stories, "Winter in Summer" because there's no shortage of the sexytimes in that fic. (;

**Chapter Twelve**

I had a dream last night

And when I opened my eyes

Your shoulderblade, your spine

Were shorelines in the moonlight

New worlds for the weary

New lands for the living

I could make it if I tried

I closed my eyes, I kept on swimming

(Change of Time - Josh Ritter)

When they got back to the James Island safe house, Liz put her cheesecake in the refrigerator while Red went down to the wine cellar to pick out a couple bottles. He came back upstairs to find Liz perched on a barstool at the granite and mahogany island in the center of the kitchen. She jumped up and ran over to take the bottles from his hands.

Red grinned and ribbed her. "Somebody's thirsty."

Liz set the bottles on the island behind her, and put her palms on Red's chest, shaking her head. "Nope! Somebody is going to uncork one of these while somebody else goes upstairs to get his glasses."

Red's hands circled her waist, gently pushing her backwards a few steps, until her back was against the island. He took off her hat and set it on the barstool, and leaned forward to kiss her.

Deepening the kiss, Liz dropped one hand to squeeze his ass, and then turned her face away, to speak directly into his ear, "If you're trying to distract me again, it won't work." Then she yelped in surprise when he quickly picked her up and set her on the counter.

Red pulled her knees apart and stepped between them to kiss her again. Without pausing, he pushed up her dress and ran his fingers up and down her thighs, and spoke into her mouth, "I would argue... that you're the one distracting me."

Liz nimbly worked at the knot in his tie while Red's tongue became better acquainted with every part of her mouth. Once the tie was off, without warning, she rocked back onto the heels of her hands, and lifted one foot, placing the sole just over his belt buckle, and gently pushed him back. Ignoring his groans of protest, she lifted her chin and smiled coquettishly

"Glasses! Now!"

He stuck out his bottom lip, pouting like a child placed in time-out. "Fine, Lizzie, but come with me."

She quirked her lips, considering his request.

Red pointed to the bottles behind her, "And bring those." Without waiting for a response, he walked around her, to a rack holding a selection of different types of wine glasses upside-down by their stems. He chose two wide-brimmed glasses for cabernet sauvignon, a smile on his lips when he turned back to see her standing and holding the bottles. "Hmm... just need to find a corkscrew." He located it easily, from a drawer beneath the rack of glasses.

They headed towards their room, and when they got to the stairs, Red gestured for her to walk in front of him, "Ladies first."

She shook her head, "No."

Red chuckled. "Don't worry, Lizzie. This isn't an act of chivalry. I just want to appreciate the view."

Liz smirked and replied, "Don't worry, Red. That's exactly what I want."

Red pursed his lips but acquiesced. As he walked a few steps ahead of Liz, he thought about how lucky he was, that after everything that happened, he still had her, and there was never a dull moment between them.

When they rounded the corner to their bedroom, Liz said, "It's much cooler here, with the ocean breeze. What do you say we take these out out on the balcony?"

"I'd prefer the bed, but alright."

Liz drew back the curtains and slid the door open, with Red right on her heels. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she said, and slipped through the door, closing it in his face before he could follow.

"My apologies! I was still thinking about the bed." he called to her through the glass. "Just a moment."

She turned her head to investigate their seating options on the spacious balcony, and was pleasantly surprised to find a hammock, a porch swing, and a pair of Adirondack chairs. The hammock certainly looked inviting, but with the wine, it would also be a death sentence for her white dress. She set the glasses and one of the bottles on the cool cement ground, and sat down on the porch swing, peeling the foil from the first bottle. She dropped the foil into an ash tray, and braced the bottle between her thighs while she drove the corkscrew into it, smiling with satisfaction at the "pop" it made when she pulled it out.

Liz began to grow a bit suspicious. What was taking him so long? She poured two glasses, loosely recorked the wine, and set it aside with the full bottle. She tipped her head back and gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, exposing her neck and collar to the balmy lowcountry breeze. With one arm propped on the back of the swing she turned toward the door and waited for Red to come through it.

Seconds later, he did. He was barefoot, and had taken off his vest, rolled up his sleeves, and unbuttoned and untucked his shirt. He normally only unbuttoned the first few, and she had never seen his chest before. If this was another attempt to distract her, well, it worked. She moistened her lips, and took a deep breath, not noticing that he was closely studying her reaction.

It was only after he sat down beside her and took a sip of his wine, humming with pleasure at the taste, that Liz processed the fact that he was wearing his glasses. They had a stylish, black plastic frame, and she absolutely loved them.

But still, she hadn't uttered a word since he stepped outside. To gently bring that to her attention, Red laced his fingers with hers and asked, "So? Should I be worried?" despite knowing very well the effect he had on her.

Liz vigorously shook her head. "Oh no, not at all. In fact, you should never take those off. I love them!"

He laughed, let go of her hand, and trailed his fingers up the length of her forearm. "I think you'll find that there are certain activities that are better performed without them." He smugly brought his eyes to hers, and added, "Though it is nice, being able to make out your features more clearly."

"I think Anders was right about you." Liz replied.

"How so?"

She smiled and bit her lip before answering, "You're an animal."

"Indeed, but.." Red turned and kissed her clavicle, and spoke low, against her throat, "I'm your animal." He put his arm around her shoulders, and Liz snuggled against him, absent-mindedly combing her fingers through his chest hair, and occasionally lifting her head to sip from her wine glass.

After they polished off the first bottle, Red uncorked the second, and refilled their glasses, admiring the flush that the cabernet brought to her cheeks. With her tongue sufficiently loosened by the drink, Liz asked a question that had been niggling at the back of her mind all day. "Red, what happens when the night terrors go away?"

"Well... we'll both sleep better, won't we?" he answered.

"That's not what I mean... I mean, will we still be sleeping together? Because this just... it isn't just about the night terrors anymore, is it?"

He tightened his arm around her, "Lizzie, although I was sincere about needing your help, this was never just about the night terrors, for me."

She lifted her head to look at him. "So, when they stop, you aren't going to leave? You aren't going to go back to shutting me out at the end of the day?"

Red kissed her and pulled her back into his arms. "No, I won't. Actually, I was worried that you would."

She smiled against his chest, "No, I won't."

"Episodes of night terrors, I know, are brought on by trauma. Yours are about the fire, but that happened such a long time ago... why did they come back?"

Red sighed a brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheeks. "I'm not sure if you want to hear that."

"Why not? Was it my fault? I do want to know. If you can, tell me."

Red took two large gulps of his wine before he answered, "They came back after I almost lost you again, twice.. when Tom had a gun to your head, and when you came to tell me that you were done.

"Red, I had no idea. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. None of it is. I jumped into your life and laid waste to everything that you thought you knew. And to move forward, after that, was a hail mary. After all of the times that I told you that you were free to go, I can't lie and say that I didn't expect it. But..." he paused to take a deep breath, wary of exposing his vulnerable heart. "Nothing could have prepared me for how much it hurt. You're my last hope, my only hope. I might not be your knight in shining armor, or the love of your life, but I am your only hope for finding the truth, as much as you are mine. I want that, for you."

Liz buried her face in his chest, blinking back tears while she carried and absorbed the weight of his words. After a few minutes, she broke the silence. "There were other close-calls though, like underground with Wujing, and the stewmaker's cabin, and even Garrick had a gun to my head before Tom did, so I don't understand... The terrors didn't come back then. Why now?"

"I can only speculate. The Garrick incident was a game-changer though, a emotional catalyst of sorts, but it took me awhile to process and come to terms with that. I tried, while I was gone, but it didn't crystallize until I came back. My feelings evolved. Your role in my life evolved. And then nothing... nothing could be worse than losing you, and I almost did, twice."

Liz shuddered and lifted her head to softly kiss him. "You even told me that before, in the park. You said that nothing could be worse than losing me. It's not that I didn't believe you. I think I just... I didn't really understand yet."

Red took the glass from her hand and set it aside, next to his, and pulled her up into his lap. He kissed her and pulled her more tightly against him. "Do you understand now?" he asked.

Liz turned and straddled him, and put one hand on the back of his neck, and slipped the other below his collar, grazing her fingertips over the periphery of his scars, and nodded. "I do." She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Red's, and tentatively reached further beneath his shirt.

Red's hands stilled on her hips, somewhat nervous, but he allowed her to blindly explore what his suits effectively kept hidden.

Liz pulled back to study his eyes, and asked, "Want to go inside?"

"In a minute," he answered, and pulled her forward to kiss him again, deeply. He pushed her dress up to caress her thighs, moaning when she widened them to put more of her weight on him.

Red had no intention of stopping her this time.

When Liz came up for air, she slipped off of his lap, laced her fingers with his, and led him back inside. She sat on the bed, and gestured for Red to stand in front of her. With one hand, she unbuckled his belt, and slipped the other behind him to grope the back of his thighs while she slowly pulled it free of the belt loops. Then she repositioned herself, rising up on her knees, and slowly turned him around, so he was facing away from her.

Liz wrapped her arms around him, and kissed the nape of his neck, holding onto each side of his open shirt, at the buttons, and slowly tugged, signaling her intent. "May I?" she asked, holding her breath.

She let it out when he moved to help her slide the shirt from his shoulders, and tossed it aside. Red reached behind him, for her hands- a request for support that she couldn't deny, and laced their fingers together, softly squeezing. Liz took only a moment to stare at his back, her heart swollen with the burden of seeing the pain that Red silently carried for so long. Still holding his hands, she laid her cheek against his shoulder and sighed. In an effort to soothe, she took her time softly kissing every inch of his scars.

Briefly, Red worried that he may have turned her off, but when Liz was finished, she turned him to face her again, and wasted no time fervently meeting his lips with hers. He reached down for the hem of her dress, and lifted it up and over her shoulders in one smooth motion, discarding it alongside his belt and shirt. She gently lifted his glasses from his face, and set them on the nightstand. "I think you were right. Some things are better without them." she said.

When they were finally undressed, Liz crawled back and laid down in the center of the bed. Red covered her body with his, and showed her how it felt to be truly cherished.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Sorry for keeping you guys waiting, but the daily update pace couldn't go on forever! With the season premiere came other fandom endeavors. ((I DID finally update My Flamingo though, but I had to bump its rating to M, so if you aren't following, it might not have shown up on your blacklist fic list.)) Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you guys are in the mood for some Lizzington fluff. Oh yeah, and a bit of smut too. Honestly, just a bit! I'm a tad predictable, aren't I? Perhaps I should also warn you now that this IS the end, and the epilogue is included too. Alright, well, onward... Let's do this!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. I'm really terrible about writing these.

**Chapter Thirteen**

That night, both content and exhausted, Red and Liz fell asleep quickly. Red only woke her once during the night, but it wasn't because of night terrors or sleeptalking. He just wanted to make love again, and Liz was more than happy to oblige.

After slipping back into a dreamless sleep, a few short hours later, Red woke up again and glanced at his watch. He lightly grazed his fingertips over Liz's clavicle and softly whispered into her ear, "Lizzie, wake up."

"Huh?" She eeked out, groggy. "Again? Jesus, Red..."

He chuckled at her bewilderment and climbed out of bed to stand beside her. "Come here," he beckoned, draping a blanket around Liz's bare shoulders. "It's probably a little chilly outside."

Liz silently narrowed her eyes at him, which only served to further his amusement.

He placed a placating kiss on her temple. "Just trust me." He opened the glass door and lead her outside and onto the balcony.

"You're naked too." Liz pointed out, but Red didn't care. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked on.

"Look," he said, pointing toward the water. Far in the distance, where the Atlantic Ocean met the sky, the faintest streaks of salmon and guava-colored light appeared. "Here," Red gestured toward the hammock, smiling. Liz clambered onto it and laid down on her side, leaving plenty of room for Red to gingerly climb in behind her. Never would she have guessed that hammocks were perfect for spooning, but Liz wasn't surprised. She shivered, and Red reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and nuzzled the freshly-exposed crook of her neck, warming it with his breath.

Several minutes later, Liz broke through their mutual reverie. "I've never watched the sun rise over the ocean before."

"You haven't? What do you think?" Red asked.

"It's breathtaking."

Red closed his eyes and tightened his grip around her chest. "Then I promise that you'll see many more."

Liz hummed and craned her head backwards, seeking out his lips. After a brief hitch of his breath, Red opened his mouth to her and deepened the kiss. Moments later, he pulled back again. "Sweetheart, about that breathtaking sunrise.. you aren't watching it."

With only her head still turned toward him, Liz coyly batted her eyelashes. "Aren't I?" Her hand snaked behind her to stroke him, confirming her suspicions that he wanted her again.

Red canted his head in feigned admonishment and parroted Liz's tone from moments before. "Again?" Then he smiled and lowered his lips to hers. With a contented sigh, Liz returned her gaze to the ocean, slipping her top leg forward in a silent invitation. Red carefully guided himself back inside of her, and laced his fingers with hers, holding them at her waist. They made love at the exquisitely slow pace of the rising sun, neither climaxing until the world around them was finally bathed in hazy Carolina sunlight.

Still cuddled up on the hammock, Liz spoke over Red's chest, "Let's never go back."

"Sounds good to me."

-...-...-...-

A few short hours later, they were wheels-up on the bumpy private airstrip, on their way back to Virginia. Together, they worked out the details of their cover story for the FBI. With that out of the way, Liz brought up a subject that neither had mentioned all morning.

"They're gone now, aren't they?"

Even without being given context, Red knew exactly what she meant. "It seems so."

"You really think they're gone? Do you have any theories why? Or... do you already know why?" Liz reached behind him to run her fingers over his scalp, distracting him too much to answer right away. Red closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"Because I have you."

"You have always had me," Liz pointed out, but she knew what he meant.

"No, I didn't. You could have left. You probably should have, but you didn't."

Liz bit back the urge to refute that statement, and let him go on.

"The terrors are triggered by trauma and fear, and I'm not afraid anymore." Red turned toward her, and Liz could see the liquid emotion in his steady gaze. He continued, "You're my second chance. I don't deserve it, and I'm sure that I'll anger you repeatedly over the years, but... please understand that I'm eternally grateful to have you. I won't be flip about this, and I don't make commitments that I can't keep."

Liz nodded and sniffled, and Red pulled her into a crushing embrace. In that moment, for the very first time, Liz began to imagine their long-term future together. The thought that would have frightened her only days ago filled her with peace.

-...-...-...-...-

Epilogue

For several months, Liz endeavored to keep her relationship with Red a secret, but as time went on, that secret became increasingly difficult to hide. Aram found out, and it wasn't long before Ressler knew as well. Red tried to bribe them into silence, but was surprised to hear that neither had any intentions to out them to Cooper. Not only that, but they were supportive of Red and Liz's relationship as well. They had even predicted it long ago.

A month after that, Red surprised Liz with a return trip to Charleston, to elope. They weren't even engaged yet. When they arrived at Waterfront Park for the small ceremony, Dembe, Mr. Kaplan, Donald, and Aram were already there, waiting for them. They said, "I do" under a live oak dripping with Spanish moss. Afterwards, in lieu of a traditional reception, they built a bonfire on Anders' private James Island beach. They sat around the fire and got drunk and told stories until the sun came up. It was perfect. Red wrapped his arms around Liz and told her that he'd take her somewhere exotic for her next ocean sunrise.

When they returned to Virginia, Liz decided that she wouldn't keep her marriage a secret. She approached Cooper in his office, and laid it all out for him, keeping a firm but calm tone in her voice. She told him that both she and Red were still committed to the taskforce, but if charges were to be brought upon either Red or herself, they'd simply disappear and never be found again. Though understandably wary, since the post office blacksite and the taskforce were still heavily shrouded in secrecy, even from the rest of the FBI, Cooper agreed to stay mum.

A year later, after Cooper was diagnosed with a terminal illness, the members of the taskforce decided that they'd rather disband than be squashed beneath the thumb of a new AD. They kicked things into high gear, taking down as many blacklisters as they could while they still had the FBI's financial and legal backing. After Cooper's premature retirement party, the taskforce went rogue. Red had more than enough money to support them all, so he bankrolled the entire operation until he finally got the answers that he and Liz so desperately needed.

As they neared the truth, Liz and Red were surprised by an unplanned pregnancy. Liz stubbornly insisted on staying in the game for as long as she could, but an ultrasound revealed that they were having twins, and the OB put her on bedrest.

Red bought the James Island mansion, and they moved in immediately. He secretly arranged for Aram to paint a mural in the nursery. Red wanted to surprise Liz with it when she went into labor. When the day finally came, Red unlocked the door and revealed the surprise.

Liz shrieked and howled with laughter, only to double over seconds later with a strong contraction. The mural was a gigantic, psychedelic-colored jellyfish, with a Prada purse suspended from one of its tentacles. "I hope you don't plan on telling the twins that story," Liz said, smiling through gritted teeth.

They were enroute to the hospital when Ressler called with more good news. He had number one detained at their own topsecret blacksite. "Good. Keep him." Red hung up and passed the information to Liz and squeezed her hand. "He can wait. I'm not leaving your side for a second."

Fraternal twins Carolina and James were born ten hours later. The foursome huddled together on Liz's hospital bed. "How perfect," Liz said, "that we'll always each have one to hold."

Red captured her lips with his and added, "And eachother."

-...-...-...-...-

*tackle hugs* Thanks again, you guys. Gosh, this was such a rollercoaster of sappy shipper feels. I hope the epilogue wasn't too contrived. Does it help that we'll have another new episode tomorrow? It sure is helping me!


End file.

Blacklist, Drama, Hurt-Comfort